By The Fireside
by jewelianna
Summary: The night before their wedding, Sully tries to ease Michaela's fears.


Michaela brushed aside a branch that blocked the path, straining to see by the low light of the moon. She knew it wasn't wise to be walking alone in the woods at night, but over the past several months she had memorized this route. She could walk it with her eyes closed.

The glow of the fire reached through the darkness. Wolf ran to greet her and guide her on the last few steps to the clearing where Sully's lean-to sat tucked against the trees.

Sully knelt by the fire, bare-chested. The light danced over his skin in a tempting glow and Michaela's breath caught. Tomorrow they would be married, she thought. He would be her husband. She smiled at the idea, and felt her grin spread when he looked up and caught her eye.

"What're you doing here?" Sully asked, rising. He reached behind him for his shirt, pulling it on quickly. "Did you walk out here all alone?"

Clutching her shawl around her shoulders, Michaela felt rather foolish. She shouldn't have come, she thought. This could have waited until after the wedding. "I couldn't sleep."

Sully came around the fire and reached for her, holding her gently by the shoulders. "Me either." He rubbed her shoulders, hands warm through her thin shirt.

"I just keep thinking about tomorrow. Nothing's gone according to plan, and I'm just afraid it's going to be terrible." Her family, her friends, Custer; it seemed the world was throwing every obstacle it could in their path.

Drawing her closer, Sully tucked her head against his neck, cradling her to his chest. "None of that matters as long as we're wedded at the end of the day."

Tension eased out of her, and her heart beat faster against his chest. He was right, of course. She circled her arms around his waist and murmured "I love you," tipping her face up to his. His lips met hers gently, a soft caress of love. She opened her lips slowly and felt his tongue sweep in. The first time he'd done that, she'd pulled back in shock, but through their courtship and engagement she'd learned to enjoy the passion in Sully's kisses. Something insider her caught fire and began to burn with need.

"Wait," she said, drawing back. She saw the look of disappointment in his eyes. "No, it's not… I mean, I came out here to give you this." She drew back and pulled a book from her waistband and handed it to him. He turned it over and read the title stamped on the cover.

"_Leaves of Grass_. Whitman." He smiled as he thumbed through the pages.

"I thought you'd like a copy of your own. I know it's not much of a wedding present, but I didn't have much time to come up with something after giving Cloud Dancing your shirt. I thought," she said, feeling the blush creep up her cheeks, "that we could read it together."

He closed the book and cupped her cheek with his free hand, fingers rough against her skin. "Thank you." He kissed her deeply, carefully, and too briefly, as far as she was concerned. "Will you read some with me?"

"Now?" she asked. It was late, and they had such a big day tomorrow.

"Please?" Determined, Sully led her around the fire to his lean-to, easing down to the ground. He drew her between his legs, leaning back against his chest. It was an intimate position, surrounded by him. Nerves jittered through her, but the overwhelming safety of his arms won out against fear. Slowly she relaxed and let him support her. He wrapped his arms around her and opened to what she'd come to think of as their passage.

As he began to read, she closed her eyes and rested her head on his shoulder. His voice lulled her to peacefulness, the stresses of family and weddings forgotten.

With one hand he held the book, his other arm around her waist, keeping her close to him. She felt the edge of his hand brush against the underside of her breast, but didn't pull away. Everywhere he touched seemed to tingle with anticipation, and for the first time, she was not afraid.

After a while she shifted, her tailbone aching from sitting on the hard ground. She didn't want to go, not yet, and settled more comfortably into his arms. Sully's voice hitched as she leaned back, and she froze when she realized why. She felt it, him, hard against her back and fear raced up once again.

Sensing her tension, Sully set the book aside and wrapped his arms around her waist more fully, holding her close. "This time tomorrow we'll be married." He trailed a line of kisses down her neck, making it hard for her to think clearly.

"I know." She tried not to focus on him, being, well, that way. She knew the clinical definition for what was happening, but somehow that was even more frightening. Saying nothing, she stared into the fire as he rested his cheek against her hair.

"Talk to me, Michaela. You gotta tell me what you're thinkin'." He kept hold of her, voice whispering low and seductive in her ear. "You don't gotta be scared." His lips closed around her earlobe and she moaned softly.

She bit her lip and tried to explain. "I don't know how to put it into words. It's easier to just ignore it."

"It's gonna be pretty hard to ignore tomorrow night." Sully took her hands in his, crossing both of their arms in her lap. "You know I love you and I'd never do anything to hurt you."

"I know that. I do," she emphasized, turning her face to his for a kiss, hoping to distract him from the conversation. She closed her eyes and let her heart swell. For a long moment there was nothing but the soft brush of lips and warmth of his breath on her cheek.

Sully broke the kiss, eyes dark in the firelight. "Tell me what you're afraid of."

Looking back to the fire, she felt the blush return. She knew that if the words came, she'd never be able to say them while looking at him. "It's not that I don't know what happens. I do, of course. I'm a doctor. It's just that…" her voice trailed off, embarrassment stopping her from continuing.

"That what?" Sully prompted. When she didn't answer, he nudged her knee gently. "That what?"

Her answer came in a rush of breath, heart beating fast, words jumbling together. "Well, when you said there were things you couldn't learn from books, I didn't believe you. But the more we've been together, the more I've realized that it is true. And it scares me that what I know, what I've read about, isn't accurate, or isn't enough." She tried to break free from his embrace, but he held on tightly.

"Michaela." Just the way he said her name calmed her and made her heart slow its frenetic pace. "It's not about knowing. It's about feeling." He lifted their joint hands and kissed her knuckles sweetly. "It's about lovin'."

"Still, I just wish I knew more about the particulars. I'm a doctor, for heaven's sake, but all I know is the anatomical function of procreation from a textbook." She couldn't believe she was telling him all of this. Everything she'd kept bottled up inside came spilling out.

"What if you knew?" Sully asked. Michaela felt her eyes grow wide, her heart speed up again. "If you saw what happened, would it make you more comfortable?"

She couldn't think clearly. Her mind sped along faster than a locomotive, a part of her wanting to cry out 'yes!' while another part wanted to run away. "I think I'd better go."

"We're gonna be married in less than twelve hours. I'm not talkin' about doin' anything inappropriate. I just thought maybe you'd like to watch me. Thinkin' of you."

She stilled in his arms, flabbergasted. "You do that?"

"Sometimes. When I'm thinking of you, or of us. Bein' together." He spoke so freely that she marveled his candor.

"It's sinful," she whispered. The thought of him doing that, thinking of her, burned her cheeks with shame, and worse, pride.

"The Cheyenne don't think so. They believe it's healthy, normal. There's no shame in it." She felt him draw her closer, knowing that she could feel his hardness. He pushed against her, letting her feel him. "I'll show you," he whispered. "Then you'd know."

"Sully, we can't." But her protest sounded weak, even to her. Sully began to slide away from her, but he only drew her to her feet and stepped them both back a few steps into his lean-to. Settling her down in the corner, he stepped away and pulled his shirt off again.

"Supposen' you came by a little later," he began, settling down on his knees the way she'd found him earlier. "Supposen' I hadn't heard you come up, and I was thinkin' of you."

She watched as he touched his heart, his eyes locked on hers. Slowly, his hand traveled down his chest and came to rest at the junction of his thighs. She wanted to tell him to stop, that this was inappropriate, but the words wouldn't form. She could only watch as he clutched himself through his buckskins.

"You make me crazy, you know that? Just thinking about you, that beautiful hair, your pretty eyes. Thinking about you in my bed tomorrow." He kept his hand there, stroking back and forth over the bulge. She wanted to look away but, mesmerized, could not avert her eyes.

"I think of you that day on the cattle drive, in nothin' but your under things. What might have happened if Matthew hadn't come along." He lifted his hand and slid it inside the waistband, hiding his fingers. "You have no idea what you do to me, and that makes me even crazier."

He stood, then, toeing off his moccasins. She sat frozen on the ground, realizing what he was about to do. He paused, hands at his hips.

"You've seen me before."

Blushing, she tried to deny it. "Why would you think that?"

"Because I know you. When I was beat, you did all that rubbin' on my legs, all that examinin'. You looked." He was smiling, and her temper rose.

"How dare you imply that my intentions were anything other than strictly professional!" Fury spurned her to action and, gathering her skirts, she started to rise. She stopped short when he dropped his buckskins, stepping out of them to stand before her, fully bare.

"I hope ya looked. Do you know what it does to me, knowing that you want me? That you care enough to look?" His hands were at his side, his erection pointing stiffly outward. Shocked, she sank back to the ground.

He was right, of course. She had looked. She'd had to change his bandages and his bedding, as well as check for any damage in that region. But he'd been unconscious and, well, normal. Not like this.

Dark hair trailed from his navel past the line where tanned skin met white. It grew thick between his legs. She'd known that. What she hadn't known was _him_.

That she had been right was her first coherent reaction. The illustrations in her texts had not been nearly enough, or accurate. Michaela knew she should stop this from progressing, but she was frozen in place, and a part of her really did want to know.

The size of him scared her, for he was bigger than expected as he slowly stroked his hand back and forth. Her knuckles went white when she tensed, imaging them being together. He kept his motions slow, his eyes never leaving hers. He knelt before her, still out of reach, skin glowing by the firelight.

For a long time it was just that, his hand moving back and forth, eyes fixated on her. Michaela's breathe came in shallow bursts as a heat spread through her own body. Uncomfortable, she shifted, but the stirring inside of her did not go away. She watched as a flush spread across his chest, his eyes shimmering and dark.

"Michaela," he said, and her name had never sounded more beautiful. "What're you thinkin'?"

"Thinking?" she echoed, not processing the question.

"Are you thinkin' doctor things? Or are you thinkin' 'bout tomorrow night?" His hand sped up at that suggestion, and she watched as he gathered fluid from the tip with a finger to ease his strokes.

"I'm not," she began, but she couldn't finish the answer. In truth she wasn't thinking at all. She couldn't ever remember being so dumbstruck. There was no room in her mind for anything except Sully.

"Almost there," Sully said, and the rhythmic sound of skin against skin began to break the silence. She watched as the muscles of his stomach clenched and suddenly the doctor took over. She knew the signs, and what would happen next. Still, when Sully groaned and quivered, she was unprepared for the surge of wantonness that bolted through her core as he came. He kept stroking, hand sticky and shiny by the firelight as he trembled through the waves of orgasm.

When it was over, embarrassment crept back. She averted her eyes as Sully wiped his hand and reached for his shirt. Pretending to pick leaves off of her skirt, she waited until he was fully dressed before glancing back across the lean-to. He seemed to know that she wasn't ready to be touched, so he sat back carefully, keeping a distance between them.

"What are you thinking?" he finally asked, repeating his question from earlier.

"I should get home," was all she could answer. Standing, she tightened her shall around her shoulders. "Tomorrow's going to be a busy day, and I've already stayed too late."

"Michaela." She marveled at how many different ways he could say her name. Soft and patient like that, or with all the heat from minutes before. "I'm sorry. This was a bad idea. I shouldn't have pushed ya."

"No." Shyly she looked up at him, smiling with a bit of guilt. "You make me feel things, Sully. Things I've never felt before, and it stirs me inside. I think about tomorrow, us being intimate, together, and I don't know how to explain what I'm feeling because it's all so new."

"Are you still scared?"

She boldly reached to make the first contact, taking his hand. "Yes, but of the event, not of you. Never of you."

"Good." He pressed a chaste kiss to her cheek. "Because you know I get those same feelin's."

"I do now." She smiled, watching the amusement dance in his eyes. Embarrassed, she bent her forehead to his shoulder. "I really should get home."

"I'll walk ya," he said, reaching for his belt. He strapped it around his waist and together they headed out of the camp. It was a quiet stroll through the woods until they reached the back of her barn.

"Dream of me," he asked, raising her hand to his lips for a farewell kiss.

"I will. I can't believe we're going to be married in only a few hours."

Sully stepped away, still smiling. "Goodnight," was all he said as he faded into the trees.

Inside the homestead she quietly changed into her nightgown and slipped under the covers. Visions of Sully clouded her brain as she tried to sleep, overpowering any worry about wedding plans or family nuisances. The sooner the wedding was over, the sooner she could see him like that again. Eventually, she drifted to sleep.

When the rooster crowed the next morning, Michaela woke with a smile. She had indeed dreamt of him, and it was going to be a glorious day.


End file.
